Scared
by skylight24
Summary: Twelve-year-old Dean lets his fear override his judgement and puts himself in danger scaring his father greatly. This is a one-shot story. This story contains SPANKING (Corporal Punishment) of a minor by a parental figure. If you do not like that or it offends you in anyway DO NOT READ.


Scared

Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews on my story The Punishment! I'm so glad you all are enjoying the story. There is more to come, but I thought this story would be a good one to post in the meantime. Please let me know what you think. Comments make my day and encourage me to write more. So please review.

WARNING: This story contains SPANKING (Corporal punishment) of a minor by a parental figure. If this is something you do not like, DO NOT READ. You will not like it. There is swearing as well.

Dean sat on the edge of the old lumpy sofa of a guest house his dad rented out for the next three weeks. It was a small single-story house which was more like a cabin in Dean's eyes considering it consisted of only one main room and a bathroom. The bed was right next to the kitchen area and at the foot of the bed was a small coach that pulled out into a bed where Sam and Dean slept. There was small TV on a wooden stand in front of the coach. However, it was not real enjoyable to watch anything on it due to the bad reception they had in the wooded area they were in. It wasn't the most comfortable stay, but it was cheap and practical and that was good enough for John.

Dean was swinging his legs back and forth getting out some nervous energy he had built up. His dad was preparing for another hunt tonight and Dean watched him as he laid out his gear on the bed. John was so engrossed in packing he hardly noticed his eldest looking at him. Dean bit the bottom of his lip as he was preparing what to say to his dad. Dean turned around to look at his brother who was sprawled out on the floor his elbows propped up and his palm resting on his chin watching cartoons. Sammy was eight years old now. Surely, he would be fine staying here and watching TV.

Dean turned around planting his knees on the cushions of the coach leaning over the backend.

"D-dad?" Dean said cautiously. His dad often did not like being interrupted while he was concentrating on preparing and prepping himself for a hunt.

"What?" John asked with a slightly annoyed tone as he continued to pack without looking up at his boy.

"Can-Can I come with you this time?" Dean asked hopeful.

That got John's attention. Stunned, John stopped immediately and turned to look at his son.

"No." John said curtly and clearly.

"Why not? I went on the one in Kansas. You even said I did a kick ass job. I can do this dad." Dean said rather passionately. Dean had been on a few hunts with John in the past when he needed backup. However, those hunts were easy and less dangerous cases of course and often Dean's responsibility was simply driving the car, waiting for John's signals and shooting from a distance. Even still John was not crazy about the idea of having Dean hunt with him just yet. He was still very young, very skilled, of course, John made sure of that, but he certainly was ready to fight alongside John.

John regarded his son for a few moments looking at him in deep thought. "I said no, Dean."

"But you need backup, dad. I can do it." Dean insisted wanting to gain the opportunity to make his dad proud.

"You are going to stay here and watch your brother." John announced firmly giving his eldest a warning look.

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together annoyed at his dad's lack of faith. "You think I can't do it." Dean said accusingly.

"Dean." John growled lowly in warning. John in all honesty was shocked at his son's behavior Dean usually was very good at only being told something once.

"I can do it, dad! I'm not some snot nose kid. Who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. How can I be a good hunter, if you won't let me hunt?" Dean's voice was raising, his frustration and confusion was building up. He did not understand why his dad wouldn't let him come. He knew it was dangerous, but every hunt was dangerous.

"Watch your tone, young man. It is dangerous and you are not going so drop it." John was firm and final with is words. He turned and began to pack his gear into his black duffle bag. John often was very simple and direct and expected if he said no his boys they should accept it without questioning him because he was the father and knew best.

"You're being stupid." Dean grumbled lowly feeling annoyed at his dad's lack of reasoning.

John's head snapped back to his son eyes wide in shock. "Excuse me?" John growled astonished at his son's audacity.

Dean realizing, he had pretty much called his father stupid felt his frustration melt away being replaced with a healthy dose of fear. Dean swallowed looking at his dad's face.

John snapped his fingers as he pointed demandingly to the space in front of him without saying a word as his eyes locked on his son's which said everything. Words were not needed. Dean slowly got off the coach and walked reluctantly to where his dad was pointing.

John bent down slightly invading his son's personal space. "Do you want to repeat that?"

"No, sir." Dean wisely replied.

John hummed as he straightened up. He grabbed Dean's arm spun him around to the side and gave his twelve-year-old three solid swats to the seat of his jeans. Dean scrunched his eyes together feeling his bottom sting. John whirled him back around to face him.

"Watch. Your. Mouth." John said sternly pointing a finger in his son's face. "I don't when you thought it was okay to lip off to me, but that shit stops here, little boy. You continue with this disrespectful attitude we are going to have problems. Do you understand me?" John admonished sternly.

"Yes, sir." Dean said respectfully feeling his throat go dry. He was being disrespectful and usually did not upset his dad this way. He really didn't understand why he was being this way. He just really wanted to prove to his dad that he was ready and he always never wanted to miss an opportunity to make his dad proud. And hunting with him was all he had. In all honesty Dean was worried about his dad who often came home tired, depressed or angry, sometimes all three. He came home battered, bruised and hurt both physically and mentally. Dean just simply wanted to be there for him and make sure he came home safely.

John sighed as he saw his boys sad face. "Look Dean. I know you want to help me and your training has improved tremendously, but I cannot have you come with me on this one. There is too much risk of you getting hurt and I need you here. You are the only one I have to count on to look out for Sammy. Can you do this for me?"

Feeling a slight warmness in his chest at his dad's words Dean felt a sense of duty and pride wash over him. His dad needed him and he would make him proud. "Yes, sir." He said strongly this time.

John smiled warmly at his son's enthusiasm and his chest swelled up with pride at his willingness and good-hearted spirit. "Good, boy." John didn't know what he would do without his son.

Dean opened his mouth to ask John something when he was interrupted by the loud ringing sound of the phone. John went to the kitchen to answer it.

"Hello." John said answering the phone.

Dean turned to sit back down on the coach when he noticed his younger brother sitting upright staring at him. Dean's cheeks blushed slightly knowing his brother saw him get spanked.

"You got something to say, Sammy?" Dean challenged.

"Nope." Sam said quickly blinking his innocent brown eyes.

"Good." Dean said as he plopped onto the couch.

" _Yeah, I know it's getting late. I'm leaving in five minutes… I'm going to go to the end of Horn Lake then move into the denser part of Lincoln forest from there… Yeah I'm sure Caleb… I'm not changing my mind. Ten people have died and I'm going to put an end to this... I have enough to touch the whole goddam forest. I'm bringing my flare gun. That's what's going to kill the son of a bitch... Yeah alright. Thanks Caleb. Bye_." John hung up the phone then turned to his boys.

"Sam. Dean. Front and center." John ordered in his no nonsense tone. There was a change in John voice right before he left for a hunt and his boys recognized it immediately as the military man John used to be. This was the time his boys were to listen carefully and say their yes sirs like soldiers, he expected nothing less.

Sam and Dean got up immediately and stood in front of their father. Backs straight, eyes focused on him and full attention shown.

"I'm leaving and should be gone for most of the night and won't be back till early morning. You know the drill. Keep the shades closed, lock the door, check the salt lines. And do _not_ leave the cabin. Dean you are in charge."

"Yes, sir."

"Sammy, listen to your brother. I don't want a bad report from Dean. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, but what if he tells me to do something dumb."

"Use your common scenes, son. You know what is acceptable and what is not. If you choice to participate in stupidity then you will share the punishment for it. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

John slipped on his leather jacket and grabbed his duffle bag off the bed. He walked over to the door and rested his hand over the nob. Before opening it, he turned around and gave both of his boys a serious look. "If I am not back by morning call Caleb and Pastor Jim." With that John turned the nob and he was gone shutting the door firmly behind him. Dean immediately scurried over to the door and turned the lock.

Dean stared at the door for a moment having a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. His dad always goes through the rules with him and Sam before he leaves, but this time there was something in his voice that made Dean feel uneasy. Dean couldn't help but feel worried for his Dad. He worried each time he left for a hunt. Even though Dean was young he was well aware of the dangers of the job and knew very well that there was always a chance his dad would not come back. Dean always felt his dad was a superman, but then again there were so many times his dad came home hurt and he would be the one to patch him up and Dean hate that. Of course, he would never say that, he had to be strong for his dad and for Sammy. But it was hard and never seemed to get any easier the more times he did it. Dean felt his throat go dry slightly as thought of all the things that could happen to his dad.

Dean turned around to look at his brother who was standing in the same spot his dad ordered him. Sam's face was scrunched up in a worried frown. Sam must have had a bad feeling about this hunt too. There was just something in their dad's voice that seemed off.

"Dean…you think dad's gonna be…"

"Yes." Dean said firmly without out hesitation cutting Sam off.

Sam nodded dipping his head down to look at the floor.

"Go watch Cartoons. I'm gonna make dinner." Dean said curtly as he walked towards the kitchen area.

"What're you gonna make?" Sam asked turning to look at Dean as he passed him.

"Mac n' cheese." Dean said as he pulled out a pot form under the sink.

"Ah we had that last night. Can't you make something else?" Sam whined

"No." Dean said shortly. Truth be told that's all he really knew how to make, it was either that or eggs which they had for breakfast.

"You suck." Sam said as he plopped himself on the coach with a huff.

Dean smacked the pot on the stove in frustration turning around giving his brother and angry scowl. "Excuse me?" He growled sounding very much like his dad. Sam, surprised, snapped his head over to look at his brother whose face was less than pleasant. Sam swallowed and licked his lips feeling very uncomfortable under his brother's glaring eyes. Sam was shocked at his brother's response. Dean would usually respond with a witty sarcastic come back, but not this time. This time he sounded like his dad.

"I'm just tired of eating mac n' cheese." Sam explained contritely not really meaning to get his brother upset.

Dean sighed as he saw his brother's head dip down. "I know, but you'll just have to suck it up buttercup because that is what we are having." Dean said sternly. "You got a problem with that then don't eat."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and planted a firm pout on his face. Dean shook his head at it his brother's attitude and continued to prepare dinner. Dean in all honesty was just worried for his dad and felt kind of guilty for snapping at his brother, but he would get over it. And to Dean's not so surprise Sam ate the mac n' cheese. A growing boy of eight does not say no to food. After a few hours of watching tv Dean looked at the alarm clock on the night stand, it was eight fifty-seven, it was almost time for them to get ready for bed, well Sam anyway. However, the time was not the only thing Dean noticed, on the night stand was his dad's gun. Dean felt a panic inside of him as he shot up from the coach and ran over to the night stand startling Sam who was dozing off.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked as he sat up wide awake in panic.

Dean picked up the gun and looked at it, it was no ordinary gun, it was a flare gun. The type of gun that was supposed to kill the thing his dad was hunting. Yet, it was not with his dad, it was here. Dean's eye grew wide like saucers. His dad never ever forgot anything for a hunt! This was bad. How was his dad going to kill the thing if he did not have the tool to do it? His dad was in trouble and all Dean could think about was he needed to get the gun to him. He remembered his dad saying that being unprepared can lead to death and without the proper equipment it could turn out really bad. He said it a million times to Dean and Sam. Dean's heart rate quickened in his chest as he felt the adrenaline built up in his body. He needed to get the flare gun to his dad or his dad could die.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in panic snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

Dean turned around with the gun in his hand. He saw Sam's worried face and scared look in his eyes. It was his job to look after Sammy and he took that job seriously, but his dad was in trouble and Sam was not. He was safe in the cabin with salt around the doors and windows. His dad needed help and Dean was not going to leave his dad in danger when he had the ability to help him.

"I have to go." Dean said as he ran over to put on his shoes.

"What? Why?" Sam asked confused.

"Dad left his flare gun. He needs it for the Hunt. I heard him and Caleb talking on the phone." Dean explained quickly as he fumbled to get his shoe lases tied.

"We're not allowed to leave the cabin, Dean. Dad gave us orders." Sam said in a panic. Dean knew the orders very clearly stated not to leave the cabin, but this was a dire circumstance. This was an expectation. His dad would understand especially if it saved his ass.

"Sammy, he needs it for the Hunt. Dad could be in trouble. I have to get it to him." Dean said determinedly as he put on his jean jacket.

"Dean, dad knows what he is doing. You can't. You'll get a spanking." Sam said trying to convince his brother to stay.

Dean knew very well that a spanking was a definite. You disobey an order, you get spanked, but Dean was disobeying for the right reasons he told himself. This was different.

"This is different Sammy. Dad needs this. He could die." Dean said tucking the gun into his waist band. "I have to go."

Sam's bottom lip quivered at Dean's words. His heart dropped knowing that now not only was his dad in danger, but Dean was going to be in danger too.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Lock the door and do not leave. Understand?"

Sam shook his head as he fought back the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Sammy." Dean said sternly. "I will be back, I promise, but I need you to listen to me. Stay here and lock the door. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Dean." Sam sputtered out. Dean nodded and walked out the door with a heavy heart.

It was dark out and Dean needed to get to Lincoln Forest as quickly as possible. His heart was racing in his chest as adrenaline was pumping through is veins giving him energy to run. He jogged down the gravel path until he hit the main County Road. He remembered his dad saying something about going to Horn Lake then into Lincoln Forest. Dean racked his brain trying to remember his dad's words when they came into Wisconsin about where everything was in accordance to the landscape. He remembered an old wooden sign for Lincoln Forest when they drove down the County Road. Dean jogged down the road back tracking from where he could remember. After awhile Dean began to feel tired and began to walk trying to catch his breath. He wasn't sure how long he was running for, but it was awhile. It wasn't surprising that Dean didn't see a single car on the road considering the town only consisted of less than a thousand people. Dean was glad no cars were on the road who might stop to ask him questions, but then again it was disturbingly eerie. Dean was on high alert as every sound made him tense up in fear. He was not sure what his dad was hunting this time and personally, at this moment, did not want to know.

After some time, Dean began to jog again desperately trying to get to his dad. He wasn't even one hundred present sure he knew where the sign was for Lincoln Forest or if he would find his dad and if he did would he be too late? These terrifying thoughts raced through Dean's mind as his pace quickened. He had to get to his dad. After what seemed like an entirety he came across the old wooden sign that had "Lincoln Forest" carved into it. Dean stopped in front of the sign putting his hands on his knees breathing heavily. After a moment Dean straitened up and looked at the sign, it looked old, tattered and weather beaten. The rotting piece of wood was being held by two posts and two linked rusted chains that made an awful creaking sound as the cold Wisconsin air blew. Dean pulled his jean jacket tighter around his body feeling a cold shiver going up his spin as the sweat from his brow dripped down the side of his cheek.

Dean looked down the wooded dark path that looked more like a tunnel instead of a trail. Every part of Dean's being was telling him to not go down that path. Dean had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the cold dark path before him. Dean swallowed feeling fear build up in his body. This looked straight out of a horror film. Hell! Who was he kidding? His life was a horror film. Monsters, ghost, demons, everything evil was real. He couldn't even counter himself by saying his fears were irrational because it was all real and it was all true. He knew that ever since he was four years old. Dean began to feel bit angry at himself for being so fearful. His dad was never scared. His dad always stepped up and spat at anything that was evil in this world without hesitation. Of course, one could argue that it was because of the grief and anger of losing his wife that turned him so fearless, but Dean saw him as a hero who saved lives and Dean looked up to his dad's crazy abilities as a Hunter. Dean wanted to do the same.

Dean took in a deep breath and with all the bravery he could muster he started to walk down the path ducking under the low tree branches and he entered. It was dark and the forest was dense. The only light that was shining was the moon and the stars. Dean slowly continued on the path trying to be carful of his footing. Dean pulled out the flare gun from the back of his pants holding it with both hands keeping it pointed downwards toward the earth. The leaves rustled under both his feet and the wind. Dean heard securing and quickly jumped pointing the flare gun at the noise. Once he saw the outline of a squirrel climbing up a tree Dean let out the breath that he was holding. His body was rigid as he walked down the path, his mussels tense and ready. It wasn't long till he got to a clearing where there was an old abandoned church where the windows were boarded up and it looked to be on the brink of collapse but right next to it sat a greatly familiar sight. The old 1967 Chevy sat in the clearing next to the church. His dad was here. Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief as he ran towards the car, but was disappointed to find his dad was no where in sight. Dean frustrated and unsure where to go at this point sat on the hood of the impala. His dad could be anywhere. He felt his throat go dry and his eyes line with tears, but then Dean heard a familiar voice.

"Help! Please help!"

Dean jumped off the impala startled. The voice was his dad's and there was no mistaking he was in trouble. His dad's voice sounded desperate and panicked. Dean without giving it a second thought ran in the direction of his dad's voice.

John spun around looking upwards hearing his own voice echo through the trees. John was flustered and confused as to why the son of a bitch was mimicking _his_ voice. These creatures are smart there was no way it would be this stupid. He was the only one in this goddamn forest and he would most certainly not run into a trap to aid himself, unless….

John's eyes widened like saucers. "Son of a bitch." He murmured to himself and he ran towards the voice. He had a terrible feeling about this and he just prayed he was wrong. _Please. Goddamn it. They better be in that fucking cabin._

Dean ran back into the dese forest away from the clearing following his dad's desperate voice.

"Please someone! Help!"

 _Please be okay Dad. I'm coming._ Dean was mindlessly running through the forest ducking under branches and leaping over fallen logs and rocks. Then suddenly the frantic cries ceased and Dean halted whirling around desperately in hopes of seeing something. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he took big gasping breathes. However, those breaths ceased immediately as a large dark shadow came into view. The shadow soon appeared clearer as it walked menacingly closer to Dean. The creature was abnormally tall towering over some of the smaller trees. The thing was not human. It had no hair on its body and its ears pointed outwards almost bat-like. Its pale skin was tight around its bones looking like it has been deprived of food for a long time. Yet, the most disturbing part about the creature's appearance was its long sharp claws that looked like the size of knives and its razor-sharp crocked teeth that pushed outwards looking like thick needles.

Dean froze in place as he took in the creature's appearance. Dean felt his body shake and his knees buckle. Dean has seen some frightening things in his young life, but this was a in whole different league of terrifying. He had never seen anything like it. Dean could not move even when the voice inside him told him to run, he couldn't. He could not run. He could not think. He was frozen in fear.

The creature let out a horrifying sound throwing his head back as it screeched almost like it was screaming its success. Then it began to advice towards Dean again. As soon as the creature took a step he heard a familiar voice shout….

"DEAN GET DOWN!"

In a matter of mere seconds Dean was on the ground and the creature turned towards John who immediately shot it, penetrating its chest. A spark ignited and the evil son of a bitch went up in flames burning to the ground.

Once the creature was lying on the ground clearly deceased. John breathing heavily lowered his gun and ran over to his son. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up to his feet. Dean looked up at his dad's face expecting to see anger, but what he saw pure and utter fear. John's eyes were panicked and held great concern. He lifted up Dean's shirt looking for injuries that might have been inflicted on his boy. He patted him down franticly spinning him in all directions. It seemed unnecessary and mindless, but Dean said nothing as his dad continued to look for injuries. John grabbed his son's face placing his calloused palms on each cheek moving it from side to side. Once he was sure Dean wasn't hurt he pulled him into his chest squeezing him tightly like he wanted to ensure that Dean was there and was really okay. John felt tears sting his eyes and his heart ached from the fear and pain that hit him from seeing his son almost killed. He almost lost his boy.

That pain and that fear quickly turned into pure and utter outrage. John felt his face go stiff as he grabbed his son's shoulders pulling him roughly away from him.

"What the FUCK are you doing HERE!?" John practically screamed it giving his son a good shake.

John's face was significantly different a minute ago, now his eyes held anger and his face read all kinds of pissed. Dean swallowed feeling the strong grip of his father's hands enclose around his shoulders. Things went completely wrong. This was not how it was supposed to turn out. He was supposed to help his dad instead he just got himself into tremendous trouble. He was now trying to remember all the reasons why he left in the first place because now the reason was looking like no reason at all especially since his dad had apparently a spare flare gun.

"I…I um…you left without your flare gun." Dean said carefully trying his best to make the reason sound as good as it did when he left the cabin.

He didn't succeed as John's face morphed into a disbelieving scowl. John pulled out the flare gun he used on the creature to show Dean he was very much armed.

"I-I thought you forgot it." Dean mumbled as his cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

John's temper elevated at his boy's words.

"Jesus H – Fucking Christ!" John exclaimed turning away from his son walking a few steps away running his dirty fingers through his hair. He turned back to look at his son who had his head down looking completely chastised and very sorry, but John was no where near done. "I ordered you to stay in the fucking cabin! And I sure as hell meant it! I don't give a rat's ass what the reason is, I order you to do something you damn well do it!" John was shouting at Dean pointing an angry finger towards his son.

Dean felt on the verge of sobbing as he kept his eyes to the ground feeling the pain of disappointing his dad. He was trying to help, but it all went wrong somehow.

As the thoughts and fears consumed John's mind of how his son could be so stupid as to follow him. John recalled right before he left Dean's argument about coming with him on the hunt and that pushed him over the edge. Perhaps not fairly thinking it through, but at this point John could think of nothing else, but his son almost dying before his eyes because of his disobedience. Within seconds John was at Dean's side bending him over grabbing ahold of his waist and smacking his palm down HARD over Dean's jean covered backside. The swats were swift and solid. Dean began to cry immediately allowing the first couple smacks to release the sobs he was holding in his throat. The swats were harder than usual and it was like every blow to his bottom were words that his dad could not express. Dean could feel his dad's anger and fear as he continued to spank him. Only half a dozen swats were planted on his bottom, but it felt like ten times that amount. Dean jumped up and down at the pain and heat on his backside. His dad was mad and Dean could feel it. The pain came about so quickly and so intensely that it was scary. "Owww D-dad. I-I'm sorry. I'm soooo sorry." Dean cried hoarsely. However, the pain from the swats was not nearly as painful as the feeling of disappointing and angering his dad.

John abruptly ceased the spanking letting go of his son and grabbing his forearm with a tight grip. He pulled his son close to his face and said through gritted teeth. "We are no where close to being done, little boy. You're getting my belt on your bare ass. Now, move." John pushed Dean in the direction of where the Impala was. John was absolutely fuming, but knew very well he needed to calm down before he continued his son's punishment. He was far too angry and recognized his need to stop the spanking, but that did not mean he was going to go easy on his reckless boy's little bottom. Dean was going to feel first hand just how serious his dad was about follow his orders.

Tears streamed down Dean's face as his heart sank to a new low. He was so angry at him. Now he would probably never get a chance to hunt with his dad ever again and he certainly was never going to sit again. Dean had never gotten the belt on his bare ass before and it terrified him. The belt hurt enough over his jeans and even those times he got the belt were few and far between. Dean looked miserable as rubbed his stinging bottom trying to gain some sort of comfort through this awful situation he found himself in. But John was having none of it. He grabbed his son's arm removing it from his bottom and began to match him towards the Impala at his desired pace which was fast. Dean hurried to keep at his dad's pace stumbling a bit. Once they got to the Impala John pushed Dean towards the car. "Get in." He growled. Dean quickly obeyed.

Once Dean's passenger door shut. John stopped over to the driver's side and got in slamming the door shut. Without even sending a single glance in his son's direction he started the car up and speed out of the forest like a bat out of hell. Dean had his shoulders up by his ears and his eyes cast down to the floor of the Impala focusing on his muddy shoes. The ride was uncomfortably silent. The only thing that was heard was the roar of the engine and his dad's rigid breathing. It wasn't long till they were on the County Road and Dean dared to sneak a quick glance at his dad. John's eyes were glued on the road ahead of him, but his thoughts seemed far from driving as his foot pressed heavy on the gas pedal. His jaw was tight and his entire body was rigid and stiff, a dark scowl was plastered on his muddy face. His hair was all askew and his clothes were dirtied with dabre and ash. He looked gruff, worn and absolutely furious. The man was intimidating looking to say the least, someone you would not want to mess with. Anyone who saw this man would instinctually avoid him. He was livid and the worst part about it, his anger was directed at Dean. John was an intimidating person to begin with, but when he got like this he was downright scary.

Dean almost immediately looked back down at his shoes. His throat felt dry and it was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt his eyes start to sting again. The disappointment and anger on his dad's face was more then Dean's young heart could bear. He felt absolutely mortified about the situation he found himself in and if it wasn't bad enough his dad promised him his belt on his bare ass. Dean has had his fair share of John Winchester ass beating in his young life and there was not one of them he did not remember. He screwed up big time and he knew very well he was going to get it and was never going to have the luxury of sitting down ever again. Dean let out a small sniffle.

John far into his own thoughts to noticed Dean's distress concentrated on the road. Once they made it to the small road towards the cabin. John whipped the Impala down the road and slammed on the brakes making Dean jerk forward and back. John throw the car in park and turned toward his eldest.

"Get your ass inside. I want your nose planted in a corner. And so help me, if you are not where you are supposed to be when I get in there I'm going to double your punishment. You understand me, little boy?" John voice was severe and very intimidating. His eyes were dark and full of warning. Dean swallowed hard.

"Yes, sir." Dean said as he fumbled with the door handle. He ran to the door knocking saying the code words as quickly as he could and it was not long before Sam appeared letting Dean in. Dean quickly pushed Sam back inside with him shutting the door behind him.

John got out of the car and began to pace back and forth running his hands through his hair. His heart was beating in his chest like a drum. He almost lost his boy. His son, his baby. Almost died right in front of him. The fear and anxiety of that reality flooded John body like a dam braking over him. Tears began to form in his eyes and his body began to shake uncontrollably. What if he lost his boy? What would he do? He would never forgive himself. He lost his wife; his sons are all he had left and the thought of losing them was unbearable and made John's heart ache with pain. The familiar pain that he felt after losing his beloved wife. That dreaded emptiness, anger and bitter sadness began to form once again in John's heart. John pictured his beautiful wife's face then son's which was so much like Mary's it hurt. As they faded from his mind John clenched his fists together as tears dripped down his face.

"FUCK!" John shouted and slammed his fist into the side of the Impala. John found himself gasping for breaths and he felt a wave of nausea flow through his body. He grabbed ahold of the side of the Impala and vomited. John spit then slide down the side of his car and sat down. His body worn and spent. He wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve then his mouth.

John sat there for a few long minutes as he tried to compose himself and clam down. It was rare that John ever let's his emotions get the best of him. He half felt ashamed for not keeping it together, but it was too much to see his little boy almost die. John was impressively rational and stoic in many situations where most would crack under the extreme pressure of hunting. John was unique and exceedingly exceptional in the hunting world. He's faced many monsters, ghost and demons and although they may be terrifying to most that is not what scared him. Losing his sons is what truly terrifies John Winchester. His boys were his weakness, in every aspect. But he would never show his boys this side of him. They would not see their father break, ever and he would not see him give in or give up. He had a job to do and he fully intended to do it. John took a few deep breaths and began to compose himself. He did not have time to wallow in fear and sadness. He'd be damned if he was going to be weak about this. He had two sons inside and one of them was in need of correction. Man up, Winchester. Time to do your job.

Back inside the cabin Dean picked the far corner on the right side of the bed by the night stand and alarm clock. He stood straight at the wood paneled wall, feet together with his hands by his side.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam asked desperately wanting to know.

"Just shut up, Sammy." Dean snapped still facing the wall not wanting to talk at the moment or get in more trouble then he already was in. Talking wasn't allowed while you were in the corner.

When he was met with silence, Dean began to feel bad that he snapped at his brother. After all it wasn't his fault. "Look Sammy, I-I screwed up, okay."

"Is dad really mad?" Sam asked with sympathy in his voice.

Dean snorted humorlessly. "That's an understatement."

"You getting a spanking then?" Sam asked knowing being sent to the corner usually was a good indication that you were gonna get it.

"What do you think?" Dean asked not particularly wanting to admit it.

Before Sam could respond John walked in to see his youngest sitting on the coach staring at the offender in the corner.

"Samuel, take one of your books into the bathroom. Dean and I need to talk alone." John ordered not taking his eyes off Dean's back.

"Yes, sir." Sam opted wisely. His dad's face was not pleasant to say the least. He grabbed his book and slowly walked towards the bathroom giving Dean one last look before he went in and shut the door behind him.

"Turn around, Dean." John graveled out.

Dean turned around slowly not particularly sure if he wanted to. His dad stood towering over him. His large arms crossed over his chest and his face still looked as pissed as he was before. Dean bit his lip struggling to look at the angry man before him. John said nothing for the longest while just glowering at his eldest who was becoming increasingly more nervous and uncomfortable. When the silence began to become unbearable Dean finally spoke.

"D-dad, I'm really sorry."

"You haven't even begun to be sorry, little boy." John growled at him clearly still angry.

"I thought you forgot your flare gun and I heard you talking on the phone about needing it." Dean argued in his defense.

"Do you honestly think I am that stupid?! That I would leave without the proper tool to kill the son of a bitch? You are not thinking Dean."

Dean's heart sank at his dad's words. It was true he wasn't thinking clearly. His mind was on his dad seeming a bit uncomfortable before the hunt and that scared Dean. So instead of thinking about it rationally Dean saw the worst case and made an assumption that was completely wrong. It was all because he was scared. In all fairness Dean was always left with a shotgun or hand gun, never a flare gun. Yet, it was true John always left a weapon for him. The more Dean thought about it the more his reason for disobeying was looking rather unnecessary and stupid.

"You never disobey a direct order I give you again. I don't care what you think or assume. I give the orders, you follow them. Period. No exceptions, no excuses. You could have died! Do you understand? Do you even comprehend the fact that you could have been ripped to shreds? This will _never_ happen again. You understand me? Never."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember what I told when I spanked your ass before we left?"

Dean hated it when his dad asked him these questions. He remembered alright, but it was hard to repeat his fate.

"Yeah." Dean mumbled looking down at the floor. John grabbed Dean's chin with his calloused palm lifting his face up to look at him.

"What did I say?"

"That you'd spank me with your belt."

John knew Dean was embarrassed and left out that small little detail on purpose, but John had no sympathy for his eldest at the moment. He fully deserved it.

"Anything else?" John pushed.

Dean sighed looking miserable. "Bare."

"Right. So, Jean and boxers down, boy. I want you to bend over the bed."

"Dad I'm really sorry."

"I bet you are. You're still getting your ass beat Dean." John said unbuckling his belt. "Pants and boxers down, let's get this over with."

Dean felt fresh tears line his eyes and his lip tremble. He screwed up so bad. Seeing no hope for redemption. Dean began to undo his jeans pushing them down slowly letting them drop to the floor. Then he turned around trying to keep his dignity as he slowly inched his boxers down just below the under curve of his bottom bending over the bed placing his hands on the mattress. John stomped over and in one swift yank pulled his boxers down to meet his jeans. John then grabbed a fist full of Dean's t-shirt lifting it higher on his back pressing down a bit. Dean let out a small whimper feeling completely embarrassed in this potion. Having his bottom bare and displayed for his dad to whack is was not only a scary thing for a 12-year-old boy, but utterly mortifying.

"You have no one to blame, but yourself for this one, boy. Not only am I disappointed in you. I am absolutely shocked that you would do something so reckless and stupid. You know better than this Dean, but I guess I have to help you remember." Dean's heart sank even lower hearing his dad's words. He desperately wanted his dad's forgiveness, but first he would have to be punished. It was the way the Winchester family ran. You screw up, you pay for it end of story. There were no free passes or second chances on things like this. You always got it. John struggled with many things, but consistency was not one of them. Dean was no stranger to ass beatings. He was a twelve-year-old boy going on twenty and John often had to knock him down a few years back to his proper age often telling him "do you need a reminder of your age, boy?" which ultimately translates to "do you want a spanking?" And Dean often argued that he was far too old for spanking at twelve anyways, but of course that got him nowhere except maybe bent over to be proven wrong. But despite being spanked many times he has never gotten the belt on his bare ass before. Getting the belt in general was a big deal, saved for only truly bad offenses, but he was never bared for it. He knew it was going to hurt bad. The belt over clothes was plenty painful. This was going to be agony. However, despite everything Dean tried his best to be brave about the situation, there was no doubt he deserved it.

Then suddenly without warning there was loud thwapping sound followed by a burning strip stinging his backside. _Son of a bitch! Ow!_ Dean collapsed forward slightly thrusting his pelvic forward clenching his stinging cheeks together and he gripped the bed sheets tightly in his fists. He quickly bit his lip managing only to let out a groan of discomfort. Then other strip followed hitting him in the exact same spot.

"OW!" Dean shouted hissing throw his teeth. Before Dean could comprehend that one too much another one came down lower hitting his sensitive sit spots. Tears were starting to spring up in Dean's eyes as the pain increased rapidly. This hurt much worse then he imagined.

John let the belt fall again three times more in a rapid pace over the meaty part of Dean's bottom. "OW! OW! OWWWWW!" At this point Dean was thrusted forward so much trying to get away from the stinging belt his arms had collapsed and he was laying on the bed now. Dean was crying openly and found himself flinging his hands back palms up cover his sore bottom. Dean didn't know what possessed him to do that except that it hurt like a bitch and he wanted his dad to stop. He was ashamed, embarrassed, but most of all he was mortified that he disappointed his father.

John halted lowering the belt to his side. John knew Dean tried his best to remain stoic during spankings and tired to take his punishments the best he could, but for some reason, whether it be the shock of the sting or Dean's building emotions, he was breaking down quickly. It was hard seeing his son's distress and his heart ached to comfort him, but the punishment wasn't over and as John recalled the events of the night, remembering his son almost being ripped to shreds, he was able to hardened his heart.

"Dean, move your hands. You know better, boy." John said in a calm stern voice. During a spanking you were not allowed to cover your bottom. For two reasons, one you were being disciplined and should not attempt to postpone or lessen the punishment. And two, John's target was his son's bottom and nothing else. It was dangerous and did not want to injure his son's hand. Dean knew this and it was a big no-no and often lead to added swats which made Dean swell with apprehension.

"I'm-I'm s-sorry d-dad." Dean cried in big heaving breaths, but could not bring himself to remove his hands. "I won't d-do it again. I-I p-promise."

Then to Dean's great dismay John grabbed Dean's wrist pinning them on his lower back. Then he felt the very familiar hard calloused palm of dad come down on his backside in rapid fire.

"Owwww! Ow! Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll move'em, I'll move'em. Owww!" On a freshly belted bottom John's hard hand felt ten times worse.

After the convincing reprimanded, John stopped. "When I tell you to remove your hands. You do just that little boy. Why all of a sudden are you are having trouble following orders? Huh? Do you think I tell you to do them just because I have a great desire to order you around?"

Dean sniffled feeling a burning in his throat. When Dean didn't respond right away John smack his bottom making Dean jump.

"I asked you a question, little boy. I expect answer." John was not sure what was going on with his boy right now. He knows what's expected of him.

"You uh…no, sir." Dean said stumbling over his words.

"Dean, if you want to test me, I promise you, you will have a very sore ass every time. Your insubordination will not be tolerated, you hear me boy? You almost…." John couldn't bring himself to say it as he felt a lump in his throat. John swallowed and let go of Dean's wrist.

"Get up and get back where you are supposed to be." John said in a calm, but very firm voice.

Dean knew by John's dark tone that arguing would be futile. With a heavy heart Dean stood up and put his sweaty palms back on the mattress. Then for some unbeknownst reason Dean turned his head back to look at his dad.

"D-dad, I really am sorry." Dean said tear dripping from his eyes. John's heart nearly melted. No matter what anyone would say being a father was much harder then hunting any supernatural son of a bitch out there. John's eyes soften a bit.

"I know, son. Turn around and let's finish this up." John's words were soft and encouraging. Dean obeyed. John quickly wanting to finished his duty picked up the belt letting it fall on his son's naked backside once again. Dean cried again as John gave him five more strokes. Once it was over John threaded his belt back through the loops. John let Dean cry. It took a little bit, but Dean soon calmed down. John walked over to his boy and put his hands on his shoulders.

"You have got to get back on track, son and start following my orders without question. The orders I give are not to boss you around. They are for your safety and they are _very_ important. You and Sam are all I have in this world. I do not want to lose you, son. Don't let me lose you." John looked into his boy's eyes with such intensity that he thought he just might break. Dean stared at him captivated by what he was saying. His dad was saying he loved him.

Dean unsure what to say said the one thing he knew was right. "Yes, sir."

John smiled putting his palm affectionately on the side of Dean's face. "Alright, put your pants back on."

Dean immediately reached down and pulled on his boxers hissing as the fabric scraped across his tender bottom. Dean looked down at his pants in disgust as he rubbed and squeezed his hot stinging backside.

"You can skip wearing the jeans, kiddo. As long as you have something over you I don't care." John said slightly amused as he ruffled his son's head. Dean was obviously grateful. John turned to walk towards the bathroom probably to tell Sam he was safe to come out.

"Um dad?" Dean said hesitantly as he twisted his jeans in his hands.

"Yeah?"

"You know. You're all Sam and I have too. We don't want to lose you either. Don't let us lose you." Everything that Dean expressed was sincere and honest in both his words and his expression.

John stared at Dean for a few moments giving him a serious look as he took in what his son was saying. Then John smiled. "You're not going to lose me, son." John said as he was determined to stay alive. No supernatural force was going to take him down. Not yet anyway, not until that demon son of a bitch that killed Mary is obliterated.

Dean felt relieved of course his dad would be fine. No supernatural son of a bitch would ever get him. He dad was a master at his trade. Nothing was any match for his dad. Dean smiled at his dad fondly allowing himself for the first time that night to feel reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

THE END

Please review and let me know what you think.


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